Heritage and Shimmer (2 page)

The wind drifted through Beverly’s
rolled-down passenger window and moaned in her ear.

“Do you hear something, Jayce? Something
other than the car?”

Jayce slowed the car and leaned his head out
of his door. “Just wind. But it’s a somber place, Bev. It’s easy to
let your imagination run away from you.”

“I just thought I heard something,” Beverly
shrugged. “Something pitiful and sad.”

“There’s that superstition you must fight,”
Jayce winked. “I think I might now something that’ll help. Turn on
the radio, Bev.”

“Why? There hasn’t been a radio station
broadcasting for years. Not since the Starwatch shut down all the
stations to silence the planet in case any aliens were listening in
on us from the stars.”

Jayce winked. “I think there’s a very limited
signal broadcast within the memorial itself. Nothing powerful
enough to lift up to the heavens. Just something to entertain
visitors like ourselves.”

Beverly twisted at the radio’s knobs. Her
efforts at first produced only whines and screeches as the needle
roamed from one end of the spectrum to the next. Yet the radio
warmed, and her fingers found a small notch on the display that
summoned a melody. Wholesome, patriotic music filled Jayce’s
cramped car, chasing away the shudder that Beverly first felt as
they rolled beyond the cemetery’s gate. Beverly smiled as she
leaned back into her seat. How long had it been since she simply
listened to music?

“Jayce, do you ever dream of the luxuries we
must’ve lost after the aliens? Do you ever imagine what the radio
must’ve sounded like when there were so many stations before the
Earth went quiet? Do you ever dream about what it must’ve been like
to just watch television? Do you ever wonder what it must’ve been
like to see a movie in one of those giant theaters?”

Jayce shrugged. “Not really. All that stuff
was just noise and distraction. It was all just brain-rot served to
a world filled with purposeless people. We have to focus now. We
have to be diligent, and we have to work, so that we’re prepared
when the aliens return. We don’t have time for all that
nonsense.”

Beverly frowned. “Well, the song on the radio
sounds grand.”

Jayce chuckled. “That’s because it’s
wholesome and patriotic.”

The brick road deposited Jayce’s vehicle onto
a tire-rutted field reserved for parking. The dead grove tightened
over a cemetery of a handful of acres, and a small, wrought-iron
fence, rising no higher than a man’s hip, defined the graveyard’s
borders. Jayce pushed open the gate and stepped upon the first
cracked stone of a pathway.

“I wish I could’ve given more back at the
entrance,” Jayce sighed. “It’s disappointing to see this memorial
in such sad shape.”

Weeds knitted throughout the cemetery’s
fencing and nearly shrouded the path of walking stones which had
originally been positioned to guide visitors through the
tombstones. A pungent moss covered the trunks of the dead trees,
and Jayce and Beverly struggled to follow the stone path without
covering their faces in cobwebs. Empty cans and bottles littered
the ground. Paper sacks trapped in trees fluttered in the wind.
Carved initials and spray-painted symbols marred every surface of
wood and stone.

Beverly gripped Jayce’s elbow. “Did you hear
something?”

“That’s just the wind scratching through
these dead trees.”

“No. It was something else.” Beverly squinted
in the direction of the noise. “There’s a man standing at the top
of the rise just ahead of us. I can hear him humming.”

Jayce and Beverly hesitated to approach the
slim, tall figure swinging a weed sickle in the moonlight. The man
hummed a melody neither of them recognized, likely another ditty
that originated in that era before the aliens. The man’s long and
slender arm lifted the sickle high above his head to the beat of
that hummed melody, before that arm descended in a smooth arc that
brought the sickle’s blade through a clump of weeds sprouting at
the edge of the walking path. The tall man gave no indication of
noticing the arrival of the cemetery’s guests as he concentrated on
keeping his work’s rhythm. A cigar glowed from between the man’s
lips, and the illumination of that small fire revealed a haggard
beard of gray littered with the meaty morsels and bread crumbs. The
man’s trousers, frayed at the ankles and marred by holes in the
knees, looked too short for his long legs, and he wore a heavy,
stained jacket though the summer night remained warm and humid. A
cloud of flies buzzed about the man’s pale, bald head, but he
ignored such pests as he continued humming and swinging his weed
sickle at the clumps of weeds crowding the cemetery.

“How does he decide what weeds to swing at?”
Jayce chuckled.

Beverly pinched her fiancé. “Mind your
manners. Haven’t you told me a thousand times that all work is
noble work after the coming of the aliens?”

“Happy to hear that I’m getting through to
you, Bev. But noble work isn’t necessarily practical work. That man
must be swinging a really dull blade, because it doesn’t look like
he’s cut down one weed despite all his effort. Maybe he can
recommend the best place for us to start our tour.”

Beverly gathered her courage and kept pace
with her companion as Jayce strode towards that man swinging his
weed sickle. She watched the man’s long arm swing that blade, and
she wondered how it was that the sickle seemed to pass through the
weeds without so much as bending any of the wild grasses. The man’s
glowing cigar reminded her of her grandfather’s smoking habit, and
of his outlawed, black market cigarettes. Yet she failed to catch a
sniff of tobacco from that glowing cigar as she and Jayce
approached him.

Jayce nearly touched the man’s shoulder as he
reached a hand forward to attract the man’s attention.

“Excuse me, sir. We’re hoping you might be
able to help us with this memorial. All the tombstones make it hard
to decide where to start.”

The man grunted as he let the sickle’s blade
rest upon the earth. Pushing at the small of his back to help
straighten a little taller, the man squared his face at the
visitors, and Beverly betrayed a gasp. The man’s face was far from
a handsome one. The underlining bone structure appeared off-kilter,
so that one cheek rested higher than the other. His nose ran
crookedly along the center of the face, suggesting a violent blow
was responsible for each bend. A pink, welted scar ran down the
man’s forehead and traveled across a filmy, white eye, while the
man’s thick and mangled beard hid much of his lips, until the man
smiled to show a mouth crowded with stumps and bits of brown
teeth.

“Oh, you gave me a terrible jump,” a drawl
slowed the man’s words. “Name’s Simon Turner. Excuse me if I don’t
offer a handshake, son, but my fingers ache terribly these days on
account of so many ruinous years.”

Simon lifted a hand and revealed a gnarled
set of scabbed fingers. Beverly thought she saw a spot of
underlying bone in the moonlight, but Simon quickly shoved his
hands back into his pockets before she could tell for certain.

“We’re sorry to disrupt your work,” continued
Jayce, “but we couldn’t help but think that the memorial’s
caretaker would be the perfect person to ask what we should first
consider.”

Simon chuckled. “Suppose I’m a caretaker in a
way. I do my best to prevent things from being forgotten.”

Beverly frowned when Simon pulled the cigar
from his mouth and casually tossed it, still smoldering, at the
base of a tombstone. She glanced towards Jayce and noticed how her
fiancé’s eyes narrowed upon the caretaker.

“Pardon me for saying it, Mr. Turner, but
you’re just making your job more difficult by tossing cigar stubs
about the ground,” said Jayce. “Don’t you think the people resting
in this cemetery deserve better?”

Simon shrugged. “Son, I promise you that the
folks buried under these stones are getting everything they
deserve.”

Beverly suddenly felt self-conscious. “Jayce
didn’t mean anything, Mr. Turner. He’s just graduated from the
Starwatch, and they make such a big deal about keeping everything
clean.”

“Of course.” Simon nodded. “The uniform looks
terrific on you, son. I don’t doubt that jacket will look
resplendent once you start earning your medals.”

Jayce grinned. “Where should we begin?”

Simon winked. “Just follow me.”

The caretaker dropped his weed sickle and
limped off of the stone path and into the weed-infested cemetery
plots. Jayce’s head swiveled back and forth to peek at the
tombstone rows, paying just enough attention to the caretaker as
needed to avoid straying from Simon’s guidance. Beverly knew
Jayce’s imagination was an active one, and she suspected his mind
was spinning stories regarding the brave exploits of each buried
soul. But Beverly’s concentration was more disciplined, and she
better focused on Simon’s walk. She thought the caretaker moved
along the path more quickly than Simon’s long and awkward limbs
suggested, and the weeds didn’t make the slightest rustle as
Simon’s boots shambled forward.

Simon stopped before a tall and black
obelisk. The obelisk lacked a name, nor did any dates define the
window of a lifetime. A glass lens, no larger than a nickel, was
recessed within the obelisk and appeared to be the only feature
given to the stone.

“This always seems to be the grave most
visitors want to see first,” answered Simon.

“Why’s there no name on it?” Jayce
inquired.

Simon smiled. “Who knows if aliens even have
names? You’ll find a small button on the side of that stone. Press
it, and you’ll see what makes this grave a good place to
start.”

Jayce quickly found the button and pressed
the device. A charge of electricity hummed from within the obelisk,
and the glass lens winked as a three-dimensional, glowing alien
materialized above the grave. The hologram, knit from blue light,
sculpted an intimidating and alien warrior. The horns that curved
outward from the forehead stretched the alien’s height over ten
feet, and fear surged through Beverly as she considered the four
long, muscular arms that extended from a set of inhumanely wide
shoulders. The alien’s arms ended in hands that held six sharp and
pointed talons instead of fingers, and the glowing lizard’s legs
shifted as a barbed tail snapped above the creature’s shoulders.
Beverly knew that the alien’s lizard-like scales were composed of
nothing more than light. She knew the hologram could do no harm to
her, knew that she could easily pass her hand through the glow,
that another press of that obelisk’s button would force that alien
to vanish. Yet Beverly shivered all the same, for the alien’s eyes
conveyed such hatred for humanity no matter that they were made
only of shimmer.

Simon chuckled as a forked tongue flashed
from the lizard’s mouth. “There it stands – the official alien that
appeared over New Bethany, the official enemy the Starwatch and the
people of Earth are dedicated to fight.”

Jayce whistled. “The hologram of that alien
looks more terrible than even all the sketches in my Starwatch
textbooks.”

“Just wait a minute,” Simon replied. “The
alien puts on one heck of a show once the music starts.”

A thundering and threatening march of drums
and horns erupted from speakers hidden within the obelisk. The
alien threw back its arms, and a bladed weapon materialized in each
hand of talons. The alien’s arms whirled, and Beverly held her
breath as those spears and swords, made of nothing more than light,
swept close to her face. She barely resisted a scream as the
glowing alien swung a long sword across Jayce’s neck. What if that
weapon had been made of something more than shimmer? What would
happen if the aliens returned? What would happen when Jayce faced
those aliens as the duty of his uniform demanded?

“Make it go away.” Beverly squeezed Jayce’s
arm until her knuckles turned white.

Jayce pulled his forearm out of his fiancé’s
grip. “Relax. I want to watch the alien dance. The dance helps the
alien practice its martial skills and intimidates its enemies.”

“I don’t care about the dance,” Beverly
scowled. “Just make the alien disappear.”

Simon frowned at Jayce before offering
Beverly his smile of mangled teeth. “It’s fine, dear. That
monster’s only a fiction of shimmering light. Just be brave and
reach out to press that button on the side of that obelisk.”

Beverly jabbed at the button, and she
grimaced as she broke a nail on the stone when her first attempt
missed. Her second jab struck the button truly, and the shimmering
alien vanished in an instant. The music disappeared at that same
moment, and Beverly’s knees felt weak as the surge of adrenaline
she summoned to touch that button emptied from her.

Jayce laughed and took Beverly’s hands into
his own. “Just like the caretaker said, Bev. That monster was
nothing more than blue sparkle.”

“It was still terrifying,” Beverly answered,
“and it’s even more frightening to think that you might have to
fight it. I would burn your uniform if that would save you from
ever having to face such a creature.”

Jayce squeezed Beverly’s hands. “We have to
be brave now. The Starwatch teaches that all of us possess more
strength than we know, and that we’re all going to have to dig down
deep to find that truth if Earth’s going to be ready in case the
aliens attempt another invasion. It’ll be good for you to walk
through this cemetery, Bev. You’ll feel stronger after you look at
some of the other holograms. You’ll feel more courageous after you
hear what the simple people of New Bethany did to resist the alien
scourge. You’ll feel so much better about yourself after we
leave.”